Page 65
A moment later, a booted foot lowered to the windowsill, followed by another. A man bent and peered in.
“Lady Elizabeth?”
She knew she should be frightened—who knew what Lord Bannaster would do to win Elizabeth to wife?—but his face looked so friendly that she could only nod.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he said, still gripping the sill, perched precariously on the outside of the tower. “Might I come in?”
She covered her mouth to hide her shocked giggle. He could mean her harm, she reminded herself.
But she was desperate for company. “You may, sir,” she said, “but I have a dagger, and I am familiar with its use.”
He lowered himself until he sat on the sill, then ducked his head and rose to his feet. He was a tall man, slim and wiry with muscle rather than excessively broad. He had dark hair tinged with red, and the greenest, most open eyes she had ever seen.
He bowed low with a flourish. “Lady Elizabeth, I am Sir Philip Clifford.”
The name was familiar, but she couldn’t remember why. “Are you a member of the League of the Blade, Sir Philip? I was just told of that secret organization. Did you send me down the basket of food?”
“Nay to all of your questions, my lady,” he said with true regret. “But I have heard about the legendary Bladesmen, and also about your basket of food. I had to test my theory on how they got it to you, and before I knew it, I decided to try the descent myself.”
“You heard about the basket?” she said thoughtfully. “I only told my maidservant.”
“And Anne told my lord.”
“Lord Russell,” she breathed, finally understanding. “You are the man who serves him.”
“And you are the woman he is betrothed to,” Sir Philip said, his gaze admiring. “I will tell John that he is the most fortunate man in the kingdom. Your beauty is unequaled.”
She found herself blushing, for no man had ever praised her in such a romantic way. During her few trips home, her father’s neighbors had only commented that her hips were broad enough to make more babies to add to the motherless ones they already had.
If Anne weren’t careful, she would find herself swooning at the admiration in Sir Philip’s beautiful green eyes. She tried to collect herself. “Sir Philip, do you believe it is truly the League who are trying to help me? I understand that Lord Russell does not believe it so.”
“Lord Russell is a man used to being in command, where he must weigh decisions on the facts available.” Sir Philip gave an exaggerated wink. “He’s still waiting for all the facts.”
“And you don’t need ‘facts’?” she asked with a smile.
“I have done extensive research. I already have the facts. And we were approached by a member of the League, who told us he would help you. That’s enough facts for me.”
He looked back to the window. “It is good to know that I can come down to you this way.”
She moved past him to stare out the window to the darkness below. Torches were pinpricks of light along the battlements and in the ward below. “It seems very dangerous.”
He grinned. “’Twas exciting. And with the moon out, I could see surprisingly well. If we ever needed to remove you from the tower by this method, I think we could.”
She backed away and shook her head. “Nay, I will not leave and risk—”
“That your people will be punished,” he interrupted, sighing heavily. “I know.” He brightened. “I’ll have to tell John about this. He could come to meet you.”
“Nay, please do not. What if he is killed in a fall? I could not live with myself.”
“And then you would be available for Lord Bannaster’s taking,” Sir Philip said shrewdly.
Anne shrugged.
He looked around and saw the lute. “I heard you playing. You are quite good. In fact, I think I’ve heard you playing before, but I wasn’t certain where the sound was coming from.”
“I have to do something to occupy my mind.”
“And you read,” he said with admiration, looking at the few books on her table. “I’m thinking of recording the chronicles of the League for future generations.”